Date: Sun, 19 Aug 2012 17:00:41 +0400
From: Doctor Fox
Subject: Mayday with Pavel Part Two

Mayday with Pavel Part Two
A story by Doctor Fox

I woke around ten. The flat reeked from the night before. I got out of bed
and opened the balcony doors to let in some air, then picked up the
ash-tray and saucer, which were forested with cigarette butts and mounds of
grey dust. I emptied them into the kitchen bin, then went back for the
sticky glasses. I put the porn films back in their plastic boxes and
returned them to the cabinet under the TV, and straightened the cushions in
the armchairs. I sucked out a few stains, then thought about collapsing the
bed. Usually I returned it to its sofa-state, but today I couldn't be
bothered. I went back to the kitchen, made some tea, swallowed a couple of
Panadols for my slight headache and took the mug through to the balcony. I
sat on a plastic chair, gazed over the city and enjoyed the weak warmth of
sunshine on my face. Thank Goodness this was a holiday too. Last night had
been an intense, epic journey through previously unknown sexual experience.
Young Pasha, with his little acorns, wispy pubes, slim cock and litres of
sperm, had been a fantasy realised, a dream come true.  I had wanted to
suck him off, but had never expected, never even hoped that he would do the
same to me, give me such a great blowjob and let me cum on him. This was
everything I usually wanted from sex, all packaged into three sac-blowing
hours.

My cock was getting hard again just thinking about him, his lovely face,
his beautiful body, his glittering eyes... Stop it, I said. Even though I
was on the ninth floor, I didn't particularly want an open-air boner.

Down below, in First of May Square, the food stalls and amusements and
games stands were thriving again. I could see small children walking around
with balloons on strings, teenagers shooting with air rifles at paper
targets, courting couples wending hand-in-hand through the birch trees in
the park beyond the War Memorial arch and Marshal Zhukov's statue, people
eating hot dogs, drinking beer, playing soccer on the grass. Maybe I'd go
out later, not on a boy-hunt, not after last night, but to enjoy the party.

I finished my tea and cigarette and wandered inside to wash the mug, the
glasses and the ash-trays. I rinsed off the soaps-suds under the cold tap
and set them on the draining rack. It was around eleven and I had the whole
day ahead. Maybe I'd sit in the sun and read a book, or listen to music,
but the harsh buzz of the doorbell interrupted my planning. I looked
through the peep-hole. It was Pasha. He had come back, already.

I opened the door. 'Hi Fox,' he said. 'You still not dressed? Hope you
haven't been lying in bed wanking all morning.'

I was still in my boxers and T-shirt. Mind you, he was still wearing what
he had worn yesterday, the turquoise Recbock trackies, the green sweater
with the yellow zig-zags, the white trainers, the grubby white socks. His
corn-blond hair was tousled, and there were faint dark marks under his
eyes.

'You look tired,' I said.

'Nah,' he said. 'Not me.' He held up a plastic carrier bag. 'I brought us
some beer. And,' he reached out and pulled someone out of the shadows,
'Another present.'

It was a boy, but not just any boy. It was Max, the thirteen year old famed
for giving men blowjobs in the park for cigarettes and sweets, Max, in his
frayed, pink T-shirt and grey woollen cardigan riddled with holes and
fastened with a rusty safety pin, Max, in his ill-fitting grey trousers,
also fastened with a safety pin, Max with his bare feet thrust into poor,
cheap black shoes which were falling apart. Max, the poorest and scruffiest
of the lot, with his gap-toothed grin and his short, sticky-up black hair.

'Max,' said Pasha. 'You said you'd never been with him, so now you can.' He
beamed. 'It's OK, Max,' he told the boy, 'Fox is gay, like you. You can be
gay together.' He pushed his way past the door and into the hall.

'I'm not gay,' said Max.

'That's a shame,' I said, 'Because I am. Come in, Max. Get some breakfast.'

Max hesitated, then, shaking his head slightly, followed Pasha into the
flat. He had already placed the bags on the table and had helped himself to
a cigarette from the pack.

'You got home OK then,' I said.

'Yeah.' He sucked on the Marlborough. Last night he had sucked on my dick.
'Decided to walk, got home around seven.'

'What did your brother say?'

'He was asleep.' Pasha took two bottles of Baltika 9 out of the bag. 'And
he was still asleep when I left again.'

'Did you get any sleep yourself?'

'Three hours or so.' He flicked ash into the sink and smiled seductively.
'I was too high to sleep. I had to have another wank.' He turned to Max,
who was standing uncertainly in the kitchen doorway. 'You won't be able to
walk when you leave here,' he said. 'Beer?'

'At half-past eleven in the morning? And, by the way, I hope you're not
dry.'

'It's a holiday,'' he said, 'And I'm thirteen. I'm never dry.'. He uncapped
the bottles, passing on to me. 'This'll get us in the mood for some holiday
fun.' I looked at it dubiously. Baltika 9 was the super-strong one, the
choice of alcoholics. It was thick and syrupy and something of an acquired
taste – by alcoholics. 'It's better than the piss you drink,' said
Pasha.

'Hmmmm. I'd quite like to drink your piss,' I answered, taking a swig.

'Hahahaha.' He turned to Max again. 'Told you was fresh.'

We sat at the kitchen table but, since there were only two chairs, Max
still hovered. 'Siddown, Max' said Pasha. 'You can sit on his knee. He'd
like that. It'll give him a boner.'

Shit. My cock started moving. 'You smoke, Max?' I held the pack towards
him. Uncertainly he took one and I lit it. He blinked as the smoke rose
into his eyes and coughed slightly.

Pasha offered him his beer bottle. 'You want some beer?'  Max took the
bottle and tossed some down his throat. 'You got another bottle?' he asked
shyly.

Pasha grinned and handed one over. Max sipped a little.

'Go on, give some tongue,' said Pasha. 'They say you're really good. Show
us how to do it.'

Max grimaced and blushed.

'Do you want a chair?' I asked.

'No.' He moved away. 'I'll sit with Pasha.'

They sat together, perched on the one chair, drinking beer and smoking
cigarettes. I gazed at them both. Max was quite cute, a bit bug-eyed,
crooked eyebrows but with sensitive features, almost delicately so, like a
china doll. His skin was very pale, and his dark blue eyes seemed a little
too big for his face, as though he were permanently staring in wonder at
something.

'So what you been doing, Fox?' asked Pasha.

'Clearing up after you,' I laughed.

'Didn't bother dressing though, did you?' He stubbed out his ciggie.
'Thought you'd stay stripped for action, eh?'

'I didn't expect visitors,' I said.

'I told you I was coming back,' he reproved me. 'I'm off for a piss.' He
stood up.

'Me too,' squeaked Max.

'Me three,' I added. 'Beer in the morning.'

I leaned against the door-frame and watched the two boys, side by side,
take out their cocks and unleash clear jets of urine into the toilet bowl.
They laughed at the sparkling arcs, and moved their spouts around so the
streams crossed. Pasha's I already knew quite well, though I couldn't
recall seeing it in its unaroused state – it was a slender two inch
pipe. Max's was a stub, no bigger than my thumb, and he was circumcised.
The naked head was dark pink, the size of an acorn.

'Do you want to go, Fox?' said Pasha, as the jets turned to dribbles.

'No,' I said. My penis was semi-hard already. I was fairly sure Pasha could
see it.

We returned to the kitchen and drank some more beer. Pasha fidgeted, making
Max almost fall off the chair. I tutted.

'Come here, Max. Sit with me.'

Shyly, he clambered onto my right thigh, so he could lean his back against
the wall and shifted his weight slightly so he was half-facing me, like a
ventriloquist's dummy. I looped my right arm round his waist and picked up
my beer with my left. He looped his left arm round my neck.

'That's good,' purred Pasha, 'Very good.'

Max, however, seemed a bit uncomfortable. My cock was hardening against his
bottom. He swallowed more beer. I put my bottle on the table, and rested my
left hand on his thigh, then stroked gently. He didn't respond. I moved
hand closer to his groin, still stroking. He still didn't respond. Instead
I felt his thin body tremble slightly against mine. I stopped.

'So what are you going to do this afternoon?' I asked.

Pasha finished his beer and grinned. 'You know very well what we're going
to do.' He stood up, scraping his chair back on the tiles. 'I need a
dump. Excuse me.' He raised a finger warningly. 'Don't follow me. Stay here
and get to know each other.' His speech slurred a little. He seemed to be
getting drunk.

When he had gone, and shut the bathroom door, I put my hand back on Max's
leg. He turned and looked me full in the face, then, to my great surprise,
kissed me, really hard, then again, keeping his lips locked on mine. I
responded, feeling his mouth open, and the tip of his tongue tentatively
emerge from between his lips to touch mine, and then they twined together.
I held him close, squeezing his waist, while he put his hand on the back of
my head and stroked my hair. He tasted of beer and onions, and I ran my
tongue round his gapt-toothed front teeth, then his back teeth, outside and
inside, over his gums, then back to his tongue, flickered over his lips,
back to his tongue. We were breathing hard through our noses. My hand
massaged up and down his thigh whilst he ground his arse against my groin,
exciting and hardening me even more. Then my fingers hit his cock, a hard
stick inside his trousers. I massaged it and felt his body stiffen, heard
him sigh through his nose. He kissed me more strongly, and I felt his hand
slip into my shorts, his fingers curl round my stiff, hard penis, which he
started stroking, then pulled out through the fly. Exposed to the air, it
stood up like a ramrod, and, as Max peeled the foreskin away, I moaned into
his mouth. I was massaging his erection and could feel it getting stronger
and stronger, but couldn't undo the fly with one hand because of the safety
pin. I started fiddling with it, and then we heard the toilet flush. We
broke away guiltily, but Pasha merely grinned and said 'So you were getting
to know each other. Very good,' and left again.

Max and I looked at each other, panting. He bit the corner of his lower
lip, and ran his now-free hand through his sticky-up hair. 'Sorry,' he
muttered.

My erection was subsiding. 'Don't be,' I said. 'It was great. You're a
bloody good kisser, Max.'

He almost smiled.

'Oi, lovebirds!' called Pasha, 'Come here, and bring the beer.'

I drained what was left of mine, scooted Max from my knee, patting his thin
bottom as I did so. He was only halfway through, and he clutched it
tightly. I felt the effects going to my head. I was probably still drunk
from last night, I reflected, taking two more from the bag and a bottle
opener.

Pasha was sprawling in the armchair nearest the bed. He had his trainers
off and his legs stretched out. The curtains were closed, although he had
left the windows open so a gentle breeze made the nets flutter a little.
The other gay porn film was already running and he was playing with
himself, massaging his cock through his trackies. Max's eyes widened some
more, especially when he saw the action on the screen, two very young boys,
about fifteen, snogging and fondling, just as we had a few minutes earlier.
He sat in the other armchair, or, more accurately perched on the edge. I
thought about joining him, but went instead to sit on the bed. My cock soon
stirred back to life and poked out through the fly. Pasha was still
pleasuring himself. Max sat like a statue.

'Thought you said he's gay,' I hissed.

'He is,' Pasha replied. 'Give him time to relax, then you'll see.'

I masturbated with long, leisurely strokes, then Pasha stood up, his
erection thrusting out and clear to see. He moved in front of me, between
my knees, and, smiling, eased down his trousers and pants, allowing the
slender three-inch rod to pop up and say hello. He pressed the tip against
my lips.

'Suck my dick,' he commanded, forcing it in.

I obeyed willingly and let it slide over my tongue and into my warmth. He
gave a soft grunt, splayed his legs and started thrusting gently, back and
forth, back and forth, moving his penis inside my mouth. I held his narrow
hips to control his speed, but he had found a good, steady rhythm. I kicked
off the flip-flops I wore round the house, and then drew his trackies and
pale brown underpants down his legs, still sucking, playing my tongue round
his rim, feeling the folds of his foreskin. I got the trousers to his
ankles, and he stepped out of them without breaking stroke. I fondled his
eggs and, using them, pulled him gently towards me, then I put one hand on
his bottom, keeping the other kneading his testicles. He gave another
half-grunt, this time deep in the back of his throat. His cock-head was
massaging the inside of my right cheek. He reached down and took my
erection in his hand. It was weeping pre-cum. He wiped it with his thumb,
then he began to masturbate me, slowly, steadily.

Max was transfixed. His wide eyes never left us. He started rubbing the
front of his trousers, then unclicked the safety pin and burrowed inside
with his hand, feeling himself, touching himself.

Pasha sighed. I felt his buttocks tighten. I knew from last night he was
getting close. He stripped off his sweater then went back to wanking me. He
was now wearing just a vest and his grubby white socks. I had never felt so
turned on. I bobbed my head up and down his length desperate to taste his
juices, to roll his semen round my tongue, to swallow his sperm once again,
but, with another sigh, he slowly withdrew, and I found myself looking at
his hard, hard penis, glistening with my saliva.

'What's wrong?' I said huskily.

'I'm nearly there,' he gulped. 'If I don't stop, I'll cum, and I don't want
to just yet, but I'll make you cum if you want to.'

He sat on the floor at my feet and licked my shaft like he had last night,
round the head, round the rim, over the slit, teasing me with his tongue,
then he jerked me with his hand a few times. I took off my T-shirt and sat
in my boxers while he worked on my boner. I looked across at Max. He had
his dick out and in his hand, and he was masturbating hard.

'Come join us, Max,' I said.

He did not need a second invitation. He scooted across, fell on his knees
at my feet and started licking my cock. This was amazing. Two boys licking
together, one on each side of my shaft, but it was Max who slipped it
inside his mouth first. He started moving his head up and down, sucking and
sliding at the same time. I felt as though I'd got my dick stuck in a
vacuum cleaner. I fondled his hair and ears as he slid, rhythmically,
steadily. Pasha moved aside, but I reached up and caught hold of his prick,
masturbating him. Now there was only Max who needed attention, because I
could see, down between my knees, his little two inch stick had grown to a
four inch beast, longer than Pasha's, and thicker with it, and it looked
painfully hard.

'Let's move to the bed,' I whispered.

Max removed his cardigan, and his shoes, then dropped his trousers. He wore
no underwear.

'Take your shirt off,' I said, slipping my boxers down and lying naked on
the bed. My penis stood up like a flagpole.

His chest was narrow, and his ribs protruded like beams carved in a
ceiling. His nipples were very prominent. Naked, he looked small and
vulnerable. His cock stood away from a low-slung sac which contained little
eggs the size of hazelnuts. A few dark hairs sprouted around the base of
his penis, but otherwise he was totally smooth. I reached out for him and
pulled him on top of me. I felt the hardness of his erection against my
stomach as I folded my arms round his back, hands on those thin buttocks,
and started moving him against me. He rubbed his cock against mine, then
against the groove of my groin, fucking me. We kissed again, deeply,
passionately, as he moved his penis up and down the lower part of my
stomach. I fingered his anus and heard him sigh through his nose.

Pasha was watching from the floor, his cock standing up very stiffly. I
beckoned him to join in, but he shook his head. He was content to watch for
now, and swig beer from his second bottle.

I raised Max up when I felt a dampness on my skin. He had cum a teaspoonful
or so, but not fully. I brought him down so he was sitting on my chest. I
savoured in the feeling of his thighs clamping my sides, then I moved into
a half-sitting, half-lying position and manoeuvred him so he could kneel
astride me and get his cock into my mouth. I tasted the watery seminal
fluid on his tip, then sucked his four inches through my lips. It was
thicker than Pasha's, so I had to open my mouth wider, and he occasionally
scraped against my teeth. Every time he did, he moaned softly. I leaned
back and, with my hands on his bottom, got him to thrust, to fuck my
mouth. He moved steadily, his palms on my shoulders. Once or twice he
pushed too far and my gag reflex responded. I could see his balls swinging
and feel the hot hardness of his flesh radiating through my whole face.

'You can bite me if you like,' he whispered, 'But not too hard.'

I closed my teeth very softly, connected with his cock, bit his cock. His
fingers dug into my shoulders and he moaned more loudly.

'Bite my cock,' he said. 'Bite the head.'

I bit him a little harder. His fingers dug more deeply. His moan grew
louder and deeper. He pulled his cock back, the foreskin catching my front
teeth, and I closed them on the rim under his head. He almost
screamed. 'Yes!' he cried. 'That's it. Bite me.'

I really did not want to hurt him, but he was so clearly turned on by this
that I gripped his penis between my teeth, sucked, and dragged my face
back. I felt a squirt of semen on my tongue. It was sweeter than Pasha's. I
withdrew so I could see another squirt of semen jump from his penis. It
splattered on my face.

'Go, Max, go,' cried Pasha, masturbating himself frantically.

Another squirt jetted on to my cheek. Max clamped his hand round his cock
to control it.

'You finished?' I said.

'Half,' he answered. 'I got more left in the tank.'

Pasha knelt on the bed by my thigh, pushed his dick into my hand then put
his left arm round Max's neck, pulled him closer and started snogging
him. I eased myself away from them and sat back on the pillow smearing
Max's juice into my skin. Boy spunk is a great moisturiser, I believe.
Max's hand replaced mine, and I watched as the two thirteen year olds knelt
on my bed, snogging and wanking each other. My erection, which had been
subsiding, resumed with a vengeance. I had been hard for so long my
foreskin had retracted completely, and my penis was starting to ache with
all the blood pumping into it. They were really going for it. I felt a
little jealous. Pasha had not yet snogged me.

On the TV, a threesome had started. The two fifteen year olds had been
joined by an older man. Bollocks, I thought, this is art imitating life. I
had got the film under the counter at the porn shop. It was really hot and
I wanked to it frequently, but I had never thought I might be in it, as it
were. The fifteen year olds were fucking each other while one sucked on the
older man's dick.

'Hey,' I said, 'we should do that.'

Pasha broke his kiss to glance at the screen. 'Yeah,' he said,
'Later. Right now, I wanna cum on someone.'

I moved to kneel behind him, putting my arms round his young, lean body. My
cock rested in his arse-crack and I rubbed it against him, in the groove. I
twiddled his nipples from behind. His body went taut, and I heard again
that now familiar deep sigh-cross-grunt rising from the back of his throat
and out through his nose. He stretched, and I started kissing his neck and
shoulders while he and Max played tonsil hockey. Max's free hand was on
Pasha's hip, Pasha's on Max's butt. I moved my dick up and down Pasha's
crack, and held him tightly, stroking his nipples, running my hand over his
stomach, down his thighs, then he removed his tongue from Pasha's mouth and
looked back over his shoulder at me. His eyes were dilated, his face
contorted. 'Oh, Fox,' he sighed, 'I think I love you.'

I craned over his shoulder and kissed him Our tongues touched, twined,
twisted together. I tasted smoke, beer and boy, tasted Pasha.

I pushed him down onto the bed and lay on him, my chest against his back,
my cock in his ass-groove, and humped him. I whispered into his ear that I
knew I loved him, that he was the most amazing boy I had ever met. I
showered kisses on his shoulders, neck, ears, back, and humped his
groove. His fingers twisted into the pillow.

'Don't squash me,' he said plaintively.

He was so much smaller than me. I pressed my chest against his back. I
didn't care. I just needed to cum. I rolled him over so he was on top. He
seemed surprised. I grabbed his cock and masturbated him, pulled in Max and
masturbated him too. They knelt on either side of me as I wanked them both
at the same time.

'Cum on me,' I cried. 'Cum on me.'

Max was first. His semen shot from his cock in a long, clear arc and
spattered onto my chest. Then Pasha ejaculated, crying out as his fluid
sprayed over my stomach and face. I was bringing myself to a climax so my
spunk could join theirs on my chest when Max plunged his mouth over my
hood.

'I'm gonna cum,' I cried, 'In your mouth.'

He nodded and kept bobbing. I let myself go, a massive orgasm which shook
my whole body and pumped my entire load into the boy's mouth. He swallowed,
but more sperm oozed from my sac and into that thirteen year old throat as
he gulped it down.

'Yes!' I cried. 'Yes!' My cock pulsed again. Still more semen flowed into
his mouth. Some dribbled down his chin and dripped on to the bedsheet. And
more. I thought it would never stop coming.

The ejaculation turned my legs to jelly. Pasha watched, his erection dying,
awe on his face. At the same time, the sperm that had been spurted over my
body started to slide and trickle down my side onto the sheets. Eventually,
my cock stopped pumping. Softening, it slipped from the boy's mouth. Sperm
glistened on his lips. He licked them and, for the first time, he smiled
his gap-toothed smile.

Pasha collapsed against my chest in a tangle of limbs and liquid. I lay my
arm across his shoulders and squeezed him affectionately. He raised his
chin, and kissed my lips, then nuzzled against my neck. I gestured to
Max. Shyly, he snuggled into the other side, kissing me as he did so I
tasted my own sperm on his lips. That always made me hot. This time my cock
barely stirred. I was drained. I lay my other arm around his waist, and
drew him closer.

So there we lay, two teenagers and a man, cuddling each other and waiting
for three bucket-loads of own sperm to dry.

'Next time,' I said to Pasha, 'I wanna cum on your face.'

'Next time,' he answered, 'I'm gonna cum in your ass.'

'Deal?'

'Deal.'

I squeezed him again, and he spread his left hand out on my chest.


End of Part Two